Chapter 660 - 309: Pennsylvania on the Shoulders

After finishing his meeting with Sterling and settling into his hotel, Leo called John Murphy.

Now that he was in Washington, there were certain procedures he had to follow.

He needed to see Sanders and Murphy. After all, he was still nominally a member of the Progressive camp, a rising political star personally endorsed by Sanders.

No matter how many deals he had made in private with the Demons of K Street, that powerful affiliation was still his best protection in a crisis.

The Old Ebbitt Grill, a steakhouse off Constitution Avenue in Washington D.C.

The place had dark wood-paneled walls, dim yellow lighting, and an aura of old-world power.

In a semi-private booth in the corner, Leo Wallace cut into the steak on his plate.

Across from him sat Daniel Sanders, the spiritual leader of America’s Progressives, with only a simple salad before him.

John Murphy sat between them, trying to mediate the atmosphere. He found it was about as difficult as trying to broker peace between India and Pakistan.

"This steak is pretty good," Murphy said, breaking the silence. "A lot better than the rubber soles I eat in the cafeteria."

No one responded.

Sanders put down his fork.

"Leo, we need to talk."

"I’m listening," Leo said, putting a piece of beef in his mouth and chewing slowly.

"You’re playing with fire."

Sanders stared at Leo.

"I know what you’re trying to do. You want to force the pharmaceutical companies to bend, to establish a new distribution system. Your original intention is good. I support you in that."

"But your current methods are too radical."

Sanders’s tone grew heavier.

"You’re not just at war with the insurance companies; now you’re also taking on pharmaceutical giants like Pfizer and Johnson & Johnson."

"Declaring war on two giants at the same time isn’t bravery. It’s suicide."

Sanders gestured out the window.

"Do you have any idea how many Democratic Party congressmen have come to me to complain? They say your actions are destroying the last shred of understanding between the Party and the business community. They say you’re disrupting the market."

"More importantly,"

Sanders looked at Leo, his gaze turning stern.

"You’re gambling with the lives of the people of Pittsburgh. Pharmacies have cut off supplies, patients can’t get their medicine—it’s a disaster. For your own political goals, you’re ignoring the well-being of Pennsylvanians. This goes against everything we stand for."

Leo paused, setting down his knife and fork, and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"Murphy," Leo said, glancing at the senator beside him. "Pour me a glass of water."

Murphy froze for a second, then quickly picked up the water pitcher and filled Leo’s glass.

Leo picked up the glass and took a sip.

"Senator."

Leo looked at Sanders.

"Did you just say I’m ignoring the well-being of Pennsylvanians?"

"Aren’t you?" Sanders retorted. "It’s a fact that hospitals are short on medicine."

SLAM.

Leo slammed his water glass down on the table.

Water splashed out.

"Sitting in your office in Washington, of course you can call me radical."

Leo’s voice was low, but it carried the rumble of a lion’s growl.

"But I,"

Leo jabbed a finger at his own chest.

"I wake up every morning and see the elderly lining up for medicine in the cold wind, the mothers crying because they can’t afford their bills, the workers who get their fingers severed by a machine but are too afraid to go to the hospital."

"Pennsylvania. Sixty-seven counties, thirteen million people."

"Their livelihoods, their dinner tables, their medicine bottles."

"That’s what I carry on my shoulders now."

Leo stared at Sanders, his gaze as sharp as a knife.

"And you have the audacity to lecture me about Pennsylvania?"

"When those factories were closing down, where were you?"

"When those miners were losing their pensions, where were you?"

"But I was the one finding them jobs, getting them money, and building them hospitals."

"Now, those greedy capitalists have cut off the supply, trying to starve my people. And instead of helping me fight those robbers, you come here to accuse me of resisting too fiercely?"

The air in the booth froze.

Murphy shrank in his chair, not daring to breathe.

He had never seen anyone dare to speak to Sanders like that.

Sanders was stunned, too.

He looked at the young man before him.

He saw anger.

It was an anger that felt familiar, and it made him feel ashamed.

The right to lead doesn’t come from an election, but from responsibility.

Whoever shoulders the people’s suffering earns the right to rebuke those in power.

Leo took a deep breath, composing himself.

"Senator."

Leo’s tone softened slightly, but it was still firm.

"We are on the right path."

"We can’t beg for their handouts anymore. We need to create our own rules, to control our own destiny."

"I didn’t come to Washington to be lectured by you."

Leo looked at Sanders.

"I came to ask for help."

"If you still want to continue on your path, if you still want to see the ideals of progressivism take root and sprout in this land,"

"then help me."

"I’m already working on a plan."

"I’m going to have Sterling and his Energy Association make their move. Soon, Washington is going to feel the cold, and that will force the big players to the negotiating table."

"Don’t say I didn’t give you a heads-up."

Sanders looked at Leo.

He was silent for a long time.

He looked at this young man and saw a reflection of himself from decades ago.

The young mayor in the snows of Vermont, fighting tooth and nail against the oil companies to secure heating oil for the poor.

But Leo was more ruthless, more decisive, and had more cunning.

"Pennsylvania..."

Sanders sighed, his gaze softening.

"The people there have suffered too much."

"Yes," Murphy interjected, trying to ease the tension. "I went to Cumberland County last week. The situation there is like a warzone. If it weren’t for Leo’s Mutual Aid Alliance, the people there might not have survived the winter."

"Leo really is saving people," Murphy added. "Even if his methods are a bit... unconventional."

Sanders picked up his water glass and took a sip.

"Leo, you remind me of our first meeting in Philadelphia."

Leo nodded.

"I remember," Leo said.

"My original purpose has never changed."

Leo looked at Sanders.

"Everything I’ve done, even the deals that look dirty, has been for that purpose."

"To let the forgotten people live with dignity again."

Listening to these words, Sanders’s once-straight back seemed to slump a little.

He looked down at his own hands, covered with age spots and wrinkles. Against the white tablecloth, they looked exceptionally old.

He was truly tired.

In the great mill of Capitol Hill, he had been pushing the grindstone for decades.

He had shouted himself hoarse and worn out countless protest signs, only to receive little more than condescending nods from the Washington elite.

When Leo had pointed his finger and berated him just now, Sanders hadn’t felt anger.

He had felt a piercing impact.

It was a quality he recognized, one he had seen in those who could forcibly turn the wheels of history.

Sanders turned and glanced at Murphy beside him.

The senator was now quite naturally picking up the pitcher to refill Leo’s empty glass, his movements containing only a subconscious deference.

It was a deference that acknowledged strength.

Sanders knew in his heart that although Murphy held the title of Senator, he had completely surrendered his authority in front of that young man.

The Progressive movement, an old ship teetering in a raging storm, truly needed a new captain.

This was no longer an era that could be sustained by moral appeals alone.

The enemies now were greedier, their methods more brutal. They would truly suffocate an entire city.

To fight this darkness, you really did need someone willing to borrow fire from hell.

Sanders took a deep breath, as if exhaling decades of accumulated exhaustion.

"Alright."

Sanders’s gaze became resolute.

"You’re right, Leo. I’ve gotten old. I’ve started to become timid, afraid of breaking the polite rules of the game."

"We can’t let them feast on our flesh while also smashing the pot we cook in."

Sanders took out a napkin and wrote an address and time on it.

"Tomorrow, ten in the morning."

Sanders pushed the napkin to Leo.

"Come to this place."

"It’s a private club near Capitol Hill."

"I’ll summon every core member of the Progressive faction who’s currently in Washington."

"I’m going to introduce them to you."

Sanders looked at Leo and said solemnly,

"You are not fighting this battle alone."

"Since you want a war, I’ll raise an army for you."

"We will help you block the pressure from Washington, and we will be your voice in Congress."

"As long as you can bring down the price of medicine in Pennsylvania."

"We’ll back your crazy play."

Leo took the napkin.

"Thank you."

Leo put the napkin away.

"I won’t let you down."

"I believe you."

Sanders stood up.

"Alright, the meal is over. I need to get back and prepare for my afternoon meeting."

"Murphy, you stay and get the check."

Murphy nodded with a wry smile. "It would be my honor."

Sanders clapped Leo on the shoulder, then turned and walked out of the booth.